


You don't gain a single thing from misery

by Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sadness, Suicide Attempt, im sorry??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon/pseuds/Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon
Summary: Now that he thinks about it, nothing matters. Not anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oxyprose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxyprose/gifts), [rangurren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangurren/gifts).



> So after a conversation with Ppyon and Chey, I had to write this and gift it to them and I'm not sorry ok goodbye 
> 
> Also I haven't written bokuaka in so long?? 
> 
> Title is from the song "King" by Lauren Aquilina (very good song, I recommend)

Akaashi blinks slowly, dull eyes scanning the bland coffee shop. The voices mingle together and all create one big noise, but it’s all background noise to him. He doesn’t focus on one voice, and he doesn’t bother with looking around for any faces he might know. He knows he won’t run into anyone he once knew before he left, he knows he’s alone.

 

But, hey, he chose this life. He chose to leave, because he truly believed that a new start would fix the emptiness growing in his chest. He believed he could be healed, and find people who care. 

 

Funny how wrong he was. 

 

Stepping up in line, he trails his gaze up to the sign. The words blur together, the prices fuzzy and hard to read. He should take better care of himself. Probably. Maybe he should remember to wear his glasses more as well.

 

He jerks his gaze to the cashier, offering a stiff nod. The cashier doesn’t look any happier to be here. In a monotone voice, he rattles off his order and places money on the counter. It’s too much, but he doesn’t care. He raises a hand and shakes his head, mumbling something about keeping the change. The girl looks at him with wide and disbelieving eyes, telling him how it’s almost twenty dollars over. 

 

He simply shrugs and walks away from the line to retrieve his drink. 

 

Once he has the steaming coffee in his hands, he gently blows on it and exits the small shop. It instantly warms up his cold hands, making him sigh softly. The cold winter winds are harsh, blowing his hair-- which has grown out a lot, seeing as how he can’t remember the last time he got it cut-- and he shivers and lifts his shoulders up and bows his head. He watches the sidewalk in front of him, watching people’s shoes come in and out of sight as they come to and from work and college and wherever people go on Friday nights. 

 

He hasn’t been anywhere in so long. Hasn’t hung out with anyone is so long. He can’t remember the last time he even called his mom to check in. When did he last pick up his phone and call a friend? He can’t recall. The days are blurring together and he stopped going to class and he’s blowing through all the money he’s saved up and he sleeps too much or never sleeps at all and he eats the bare minimum and all he wants is--

 

All he wants is a break. 

 

He left Tokyo, left his family, his friends, volleyball, everything. For a new life. A new start. 

 

He was supposed to plant a seed here, supposed to let himself absorb the things around him and he was supposed to  _ grow  _ and stretch towards the sky. He was supposed to put himself out there, supposed to grab whatever and fill the aching gap where his heart should be. 

 

But nothing works. 

 

School does nothing but stress him out, so much so that he stopped showing up. His work, his co-workers, his boss-- none of them even smiled at him most days. He gave up on trying to be friendly. Gave up on whatever dreams he had when he first arrived to this unknown city that he had never been to before. 

 

It’s not like it matters, though. Kyoto is a strange place, so far away from home. But Kyoto does not matter, because it has done nothing for him. 

 

Now that he thinks about it, nothing matters. Not anymore. 

 

* * *

 

Tossing the empty coffee cup into a nearby trashcan, Akaashi stuffs his now cold hands into his jacket pockets. The setting sun casts everything in it’s shadow, and he can’t help but chuckle. It’s not any different from normal life. He practically lives in the shadows now, never lifting his head too high. Never looking up. 

  
He always looks down. Always looks at the shadows that are created by the sun, always looking at people coming to and from, always watching for cracks in the sidewalk and tiny bugs scuttling about. 

 

His life is dull. Boring. 

 

Though, those two words have become  _ normal  _ for him. He’s accepted it with open arms. 

 

Lost in the whirlwind of his thought, he grunts as a body barrels into him. He stumbles back a few feet, shoes sliding against the icy sidewalk. The man reaches out, gripping onto his jacket and quickly helping him regain his balance. 

 

Akaashi only looks up enough to get a small glance at him. He freezes where he stands, breath catching in his throat. 

 

“Akaashi?” 

 

He shakes his head. No, not now. Not today. 

 

“It’s been so long, Bo will be so happy that I found you!” 

 

_ No.  _ “No.”

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “Hey, you okay? You seem tired, and a little pale. Have you been eating? Sleeping? We went by your school and they said--”

 

“Goodbye, Kuroo-san,” he whispers, his gaze gluing back to the sidewalk. He ignores his rapidly beating heart, and slips by his old friend. He ignores the call, ignores the footsteps running after him. He quickens his pace and disappears into the crowd of people, losing Kuroo. Losing his only chance at going back.

 

But he can’t go back. Not now, not when he’s such a disappointment. 

 

Inhaling a shaky breath, Akaashi stops and places his hand on the building he was walking next to. He lets his eyes close, placing his other hand on his chest. He feels his heart beating a mile a minute, his anxiety climbing higher and higher as the seconds pass. 

 

_ Bokuto’s in town. He’s… _

 

Fumbling around in his pocket, he takes his phone out with shaking hands. He somehow is able to put in the password, and instantly his heart drops. He has way too many missed calls, way too messages. Most are from Bokuto, some from Kuroo, and even some from Kenma. There’s a handful from his parents, too.

 

He can’t even remember when he last charged this thing, but he must do so since it’s still alive. He’s not sure about anything, not when the days merge together into one long living hell. 

 

Shoving the device back into his pocket, he pushes himself off the wall. 

 

* * *

 

The ice cold wind is ruthless, blowing his hair out of his face. Last he checked, it was almost midnight. The perfect timing, really. 

 

Watching and waiting, his eyes catch the glow of a truck speeding down the road. He pulls out his phone, letting the car pass. 

 

There'll be others. There always are. 

 

He stares at the contact he just opened up, his eyes narrowed. Without any second thoughts, he presses the call button and places the phone to his ear. It rings and rings and rings until he picks up. 

 

“AKAASHI!” 

 

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” he mumbles, the sound of another car in the distance causing him to look up. He watches it pass. 

 

“Akaashi? You okay? You sound exhausted! How are you? It’s been so long, I missed you a lot!” 

 

Akaashi hums. “Just fine,” he answers. “And you?”  _ I  missed you too, more than you’ll know.  _

 

A car sounds, and he looks up, only to see no car. He realizes it must be from Bokuto’s end. So that must mean he’s out and about as well. 

 

“I’ve been okay, but I really really  _ REALLY  _ missed you!” 

 

Akaashi huffs out a small laugh, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile. He missed talking to Bokuto. “I’m glad to hear that, but uh,” he glances up, watching as another car tumbles by. The same noise is heard from Bokuto’s end. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

 

“Goodbye? Where are you going?”

 

Akaashi goes silent, eyes staring at the truck creeping into view. He steps out into the road, his fingers tightening around the phone. “Somewhere very far away.”

 

He hangs up, the phone slipping out of his hands as he takes another step. 

 

It’s not like it matters, anyway.

 

Nothing matters in the long run. 

 

* * *

 

A tug on the back of his jacket has him gasping, tumbling backwards into a sturdy chest. He’s swiftly turned around, and he hisses and clings to the fabric for leverage, wide eyes looking up and--

 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

 

Hot tears splash onto his face, but they aren’t his own. Bokuto has always been an ugly and messy crier.

 

“Bokuto-san?”

 

“Akaaaassshhiii,” he sobs, arms wrapping around him tightly. Akaashi stiffens, but slowly relaxes because it’s  _ warm.  _ He hasn’t felt so warm in ages. Hasn’t felt protected or secure in so long and he’s sure the only emotion he has felt is exhaustion. 

 

But this is different. Bokuto is warm, and a very good hugger. He sobs into Akaashi’s shoulder, babbling about how Akaashi should never even  _ think  _ of doing something so reckless and stupid.

 

Akaashi doesn’t understand why he feels guilty because he doesn’t feel guilty for leaving Kuroo in the crowd earlier today, he doesn’t understand why he feels upset that Bokuto is crying but it might be because he has never liked to see his friend cry, and he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling and--

 

Then it hits him. 

 

“Oh my god,” he whispers, voice wobbling. His fingers digs into the material of Bokuto’s shirt, and he gasps as tears well up in his eyes. A single tear slowly rolls down his cheek, and he clings to Bokuto as he feels every emotion from the past month's rise up and spill out. 

 

Bokuto holds him tight through it all, never letting him go in fear that he may step out into the road once again. He holds him tight, letting him cry for every time he refused to let himself feel something. 

 

And Akaashi can’t help but laugh. It’s weak and he barely chokes it out, but it’s there. Because he’s so,  _ so  _ stupid. He’s been stupid all this time. 

  
He could’ve started over, could’ve filled the emptiness if he had just stayed where he was. Because sometimes, all one needs is a shoulder to cry on. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: Seijouho


End file.
